Netrebko's voice buoys L.A. 'Lucia'

2003-12-15 04:00:00 PDT Los Angeles -- There's much more to the title role of Donizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor" than the famous mad scene. But when a singer invests that showpiece with as much emotional specificity and musical splendor as Anna Netrebko did here Wednesday night, it does get your attention.

Lucia's extended breakdown -- a harrowing burst of sweet-toned, delusional coloratura that lays bare her brother's cruelty in compelling her to marry against her will -- was the crowning glory of Netrebko's first attempt at this defining role. For sheer theatrical and vocal potency, it was a triumph.

San Francisco audiences hardly need to be sold on Netrebko's brilliance, of course. Ever since her 1995 U.S. debut in Glinka's "Ruslan and Lyudmila" at the War Memorial Opera House, the Russian soprano has shone repeatedly in Russian and Italian repertoire (she'll return in June to sing Musetta in Puccini's "La Bohème").

But to sing Lucia is to stake a claim to full-fledged diva status, and Netrebko gave every indication that it's a role she's well equipped to fill.

Just from a technical standpoint, the mad scene was a magnificent display. Netrebko's coloratura was note-perfect, each melodic phrase and glittering roulade precise and full-bodied. Her dynamic range was remarkable, from a piercing fortissimo to the merest whisper, and she exploited it all for dramatic effect. At one unforgettable juncture, she opened her mouth wide but let only the smallest sound escape -- a virtuoso gesture of deep-rooted horror.

For that matter, the entire scene spoke eloquently of Lucia's anguish. As ravishing as Netrebko's singing sounded, that was never the point of the performance. Instead, the listener was gripped with pity and astonishment at the character's disintegration.

Netrebko built masterfully toward that climactic episode. Her first aria, "Regnava nel silenzio," boasted a beautifully sustained legato line, with a dark, smoky tone color that complemented her pinpoint control, and the cabaletta, "Quando rapito in estasi," was deftly ornamented.

Netrebko's presence brought luster to a performance that was otherwise largely workaday. She got little help from the pit, where the venerable conductor Julius Rudel led a sluggish, sometimes soporific performance.

The director was the film actress Marthe Keller, who has increasingly made opera direction a sideline in recent years. Her contributions seem to have been restricted to four or five variations on "stand here and sing," apart from one scene in which she directed the chorus to make like flamenco mimes. A quartet of wolfhounds put in a gratuitous appearance in the opening scene, leaving the audience to sit and wonder whether they would eventually do what onstage animals are meant to do (they didn't).

Things were better on the vocal front. As Lucia's beloved Edgardo, Spanish tenor José Bros displayed a strong, slightly husky sound and a fluid, arresting legato; his final lament over Lucia's bier was hugely affecting.

Baritone Franco Vassallo was a smooth-toned but dramatically stiff Enrico, and bass Vitalij Kowaljow gave a gravely, uncertain performance as Raimondo. As Arturo, Lucia's ill-fated bridegroom, Kresimir Spicer deployed a big, somewhat woolly but intriguing tenor. The chorus was first-rate.

But in the end, this was Netrebko's show, and the tumultuous ovation that greeted her at the end was evidence of that. With this "Lucia," she has added one more jewel to the glorious strands of her still burgeoning career.